


Show Me

by stephanericher



Series: 31 Days of Horoscopes [27]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:14:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9651362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: 2/7: Your neighborhood is likely buzzing with activity today, Aquarius. New neighbors could move in, improvements could be made, and new businesses could open their doors. Expect a lot of visitors and calls. A man with a child could play a big role in these events. At some point you might decide to walk down the street and check out what's happening. What you hear from others may not be accurate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so this 31-day challenge is based on the wonderful [31-Day Horoscope Challenge by @icandrawamoth](http://archiveofourown.org/series/621022). Simply: read your horoscope for the day from horoscope.com (Aquarius for me); use it as a writing prompt.

Masako wakes up on Sunday to a crash from the apartment next door. No one’s lived in it for close to a year, so either it’s the ultimate failure of a break-in or (much more likely) there’s finally a new tenant who’s brought something heavy. It’s followed by a series of muffled thumps, each a few minutes apart, probably boxes. They’re enough to keep Masako from falling back asleep, and she supposes that’s what she gets for trying to be lazy.  
  
The noises don’t stop; thumps turn into the sharper sounds of hammers and ripping tape. Some latent hospitality sense in the back of Masako’s mind is tingling, telling her to go over and introduce herself, ask to help out. The usual part of her brain points out that the new neighbor could be a weird, awkward person and Masako could spend her day awkwardly trapped with a person she’ll be forced to see regularly—but she could always make up plans later on, or speak vaguely and hightail it out if she gets a bad first impression. And maybe she won’t; in all likelihood the new neighbor is just a normal person who will appreciate the sentiment and be courteous in return.  
  
Armed with that thought, Masako walks one door over and knocks.  
  
“Hi!”  
  
The person on the other side is—tall. Masako has to look up to meet her eyes behind the dusty glasses perched on her nose, and she’s very attractive. Her mouth is tilted into a slight smile; her blonde hair (it might be natural; she’s definitely foreign) is scraped away from her face and off her neck. Masako’s not sure how long she looks but it might be long enough to count as staring, so she forces herself to speak.  
  
“Hi. I’m Araki; I live next door…”  
  
“Oh! Come in! I’m sorry about all the mess…” She flops her hand at the packing materials strewn all over the floor and the banged-up, halfway-put-together furniture. “I’m Garcia.”  
  
(It takes five minutes for Masako to be charmed completely and another five for her to get on a first-name basis with Masako; five more and Masako realizes she still hasn’t even offered to help and she’s halfway down another conversation path. When she gets to it, though, Alex seems a bit startled and quite pleased, and once again Masako has to stop herself from staring.)  
  
Alex is a quick worker and strong to boot, but given how much skin she’s showing and how toned all of it is that part’s not surprising. Her furniture’s relatively simple, but there’s a lot of it; she’s got tables and chairs and a couch and a bed and a dresser and a desk, even a pop-up wardrobe made of PVC pipe (though she doesn’t want to put that up; she says her old place didn’t have a closet in the bedroom).  
  
They take a break after the dining table is up, both of them leaning forward onto it. They’re drenched in sweat and covered in dust; Masako has to blink it out of her eyelashes and Alex keeps wiping her brow with the back of her wrist and there’s a grey smudge on her cheek. Alex’s stomach growls—it is lunchtime, isn’t it? Come to think of it, Masako’s hungry, too.  
  
“What do you want?” Alex says. “My treat. I’ll order delivery.”  
  
“If you’re sure,” says Masako.  
  
“Absolutely!” says Alex. “Thank you so much for helping, especially because you don’t know me at all—I mean.”  
  
She furrows her brow, as if trying to phrase what she means, but Masako’s pretty sure she understands the sentiment.  
  
“I’ve got menus if you want to come over for a bit,” Masako says. “And there’s beer in the fridge.”  
  
Maybe that sounds too overly-friendly, eager and obvious; maybe she’d understood Alex wrong and she’d really been taking a roundabout way of telling Masako to back off; maybe she hadn’t but saying that is making Alex wish she had.  
  
“Awesome,” says Alex. “Thanks!”  
  
Of course they’re ten centimeters inside the door and that’s when Masako remembers how messy the place is, how she’d left her kendo swords on the couch and all the dishes in the sink and yesterday’s coffee in the pot but it’s too late now. She hands Alex a pile of menus and heads to the fridge, praying Alex doesn’t scrutinize the place.  
  
“Is Orion good?”  
  
“Yeah,” says Alex. “Great, actually.”  
  
She’s flipping through the menus, pursing her lips at each one. “Ichiban Soba? They any good?”  
  
“Yeah,” says Masako. “Good service, too.”  
  
“Ooh,” says Alex. “What do you want?”  
  
Masako peers over her shoulder at the menu, kicking the door to the fridge shut behind her.  
  
“Tororo.”  
  
Alex glances back to smile, her face coming very close to Masako’s. There are probably single-digit centimeters between their lips, a thought that announces itself very loudly in Masako’s mind.  
  
“So,” says Alex, once she’s ordered and they’re making their way back to her apartment. “You have a lot of swords. Are you a collector?”  
  
Masako smiles. “No. I do kendo.”  
  
“Oh!” says Alex. “That’s so cool. Are you in a league?”  
  
“Just for fun,” says Masako.  
  
Alex hums, flopping back onto the couch and digging a bottle opener keychain out of her pocket. She opens each beer with a well-practiced flick of her wrist, and Masako sits down next to her. The couch, despite its thin cushions and blocky frame, is quite comfortable.  
  
“Do you do any other sports?”  
  
“Basketball,” says Masako.  
  
Alex’s eyes light up. “Seriously?”  
  
“Yeah,” says Masako. “Why? You play, too?”  
  
Alex nods. “I do! Is there a good streetball scene around here?”  
  
Masako snorts. “The best.”  
  
“Oh, yeah?” says Alex.  
  
She leans in a little closer, her fingers loosening around the neck of the beer bottle; Masako feels herself mirroring the gesture and she can’t stop even when she feels her hair slide over her shoulder.  
  
“You’ll have to show me some time,” says Alex.  
  
Suggestions are clinging to her voice like the humidity in the air and oh, how Masako wants to drop her drink and push Alex down against the hardwood floor. It’s a terrible idea (what is she, fifteen?) but knowing that only makes it seem more appealing right now. Masako shakes her head to clear those thoughts, at least to somewhere farther from the foreground of her mind.  
  
“No?” says Alex.  
  
“Sorry,” says Masako. “I’m getting over a cold. Just let me know, any weeknight…”  
  
The smile returns to Alex’s face, a little dimmer, and shit—does she think Masako’s rejecting her? (Masako hates this mixed-message game but somehow she always ends up playing it; it’s utterly unavoidable every time. Maybe it doesn’t even matter because Alex doesn’t even mean it like that; she has to be careful; this is just—ugh.) She reaches over to touch Alex’s knee, very lightly.  
  
“I’d love to see what you’ve got.”  
  
Alex’s smile turns into a wicked grin that splits her cheeks. “You’d better bring it, too.”  
  
“I won’t go easy on you just because you’re new around here.”  
  
“Good,” says Alex.  
  
Her eyes remain fixed on Masako’s far longer than they need to be.


End file.
